The Tide is High
by lil hummingbird
Summary: This is the story of a girl. Who cried a river & drowned the whole world. Just kidding. Kinda. There is a girl and this is her story. Have you ever looked into the mirror & all you saw staring back was a hollow, broken, worthless shell of person? How did you end up like this? How do you come back, rebuild? That is what Isabella Swan is trying to figure out.
1. Chapter 1 Sucker Punched

**Why hello there! *opens up flap to epic blanket fort* Come in, pull up a pillow, get cozy. Booze and other fun, totally legal in the state which said blanket fort is in, items are to your left. Crayons and color books are to your right.**

**If you haven't already guess, this is my new fic. I need to thank a few people before the fun can start. First, HUGE thank you to my Wonder Twin extraordinaire JRDurham. Without you my world would be a dark place. She is the best prereader because she knows exactly what to say when my brain can't seem to spit it out. A&F. BFF Kimmie, thank you for EVERYTHING. Kmah and your mighty red pen (btw, best beta EVER) thank you for making me look way smarter than I actually am. You give the best notes. Thank you to my Loves. You gals give me boundless inspiration. **

**I don't own Twilight. I was just as shocked as you are by this news. Enjoy!**

Chapter 1

Sucker Punched

"Izz? Izzy, I got your text." Angela pauses for a moment to listen for signs of life "Come out, come out wherever you are." Hearing the faint sound of the shower running, she heads down the hall to the bathroom. When she pushes open the door, steam comes rolling out. Angela is fully expecting to see Izzy taking a shower – you know, like a normal person – naked, washing her hair and her body. What she actually sees, however, is not that. What she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.

"What the heck…"

Sitting in the tub in front of her, is Izzy, still in her now-soaking wet pajamas, hair up in a messy, wet bun. Her head is tipped back, the spray of the now semi hot shower hitting her chest, and she is chugging a bag of what Angela has deduced is wine (since there is a box sitting on the floor next to the tub), while tears stream down her face.

"Izzy, ummm… what are you doing, hunney?" Angela asks as she kneels down next to the tub. Izzy holds up the 'give me a minute finger' and proceeds to chug the rest of the wine, sucking on the little spigot, making sure to get every last drop. She drops the bag and turns slightly to face Angela, who gasps at the sight of her red, blotchy, mascara-streaked face. Izzy hiccups, then burps.

"Excuse we. I mean, me..." Izzy wipes her mouth and tries to swat away the wet, matted hair sticking to the side of her face.

"Izzy, do you want to explain to me why you are in the shower, fully clothed, chugging a box of wine while ugly crying?"

"Angie Baby. Have I told you lately that I love you because I doo-ooo. To this moon and back."

"I love you too, Izzy Pooh."

"Five years! Five fucking years and for what? Nothing! That's what! You know what else? Fuck the real world! And that feeling. Fuck that feeling!"

"Five years of what? And what feeling? "

"You know that feeling. It's like a drug. This high. It trickles in at first and then WAM!" She slaps her hand in the water that has pooled around her making it splash into Angela's face.

"It hits you like a tidal wave. You are so high and it feels… it feels amazing, euphrornic… but calm at the same time. You know what I'm say'n? _(*hiccup*)_ But the high… it fades, slow at first then ZING, circling the drain, sucked into the abyss. All that's left is this burning." She starts rubbing her chest. "Cuts you _deep_. And the longing.. Gawd, the longing _(*hiccup*)_ beats… beats like a heart." She leans over the side of the tub and grabs the sides of Angela's arms.

"But just like the drugs, you can't have that feeling forever. Nope. No, you can't, Angie, because it will either destroy you or kill you before forever gets a chance to breath. Moral of this little tale: Just say NO! Thank you, D.A.R.E." She lets go of Angela's arms to only grab her face.

"Hot box wine challenge. You got 48 hours."

****A/N**

**This chapter is dedicated to my spirit animal and real life Angie Baby and the brilliant Kmah. Without those two, this fic would never have been started. Thank you so much for reading! It truly means the world to me. I love hearing your thoughts so if you feel like it, let me know. **

**Oh and HOT BOX WINE CHALLENGE. You got 48 Hours! **

**XOZO**

**HB**


	2. Chapter 2 Just Thinking About

**My coworker is walking up and down the halls alerting everyone to the MOIST chocolate cake in the break room. Have I mentioned it's moist? Cause truly it is so moist. We get it, the cake is not dry. I pretty sure the only thing moist he gets to eat, is that cake. Welcome to the gutter, where my mind has a lovely vacation home. **

**Another chapter already! Shocking I know. Don't get too excited this chapter is fairly small. In its defense, it's not the size that matters it's what you do with it that counts. WT, BFF Kimmie, KMah is her mighty red pen- I tip my hat in thanks.**

**IDOT (I Don't Own Twilight) ENJOY!**

Chapter 2

Just Thinking About Poor Life Choices

"Whoever you are, you better have coffee with you. Unless you are here to off me – then you still better have coffee with you. If I'm gonna die, I want to have a stomach full of my favorite hot liquidy beverage," I yell from my bedroom.

"Of course you would say that to someone about to kill you. Really, Izz. Stomach full of hot liquidy beverage?" Angela handed over the twenty-ounce latte she bought for her best friend.

"What? I don't know what you are implying, Angie Baby. I was merely stating that…" I take a drink of my delicious coffee and smile. "I was merely stating that if I was to die, I would prefer to die with coffee in my stomach. A beverage that is a) liquid b) my favorite c) best served hot. "

"Riiight." Angela giggles.

"I'm surprised to see you up and awake so early. I thought for sure I would have to push you out of bed to wake you up. Considering you chugged an entire box of wine last night."

"Yeah, well, lately every time I ingest any form of alcohol, my body decides it should wake with the rooster to stretch out the suffering. Gives me plenty of time to go over all my poor life choices. In fact, I've had so much time that I made a color-coded board of Post-It notes." I stand up and do my best Vanna White at the board that is now hanging on the wall above my dresser where a mirror used to be.

"It's not finished yet. When I'm all done, there will be string connecting Post-Its and points of origin… I got the idea while watching Teen Wolf."

Angela stands there for a moment, reading over each one of the sticky notes, but stops when she gets to the one that says 'Peter'.

"So, you want to talk about this?

"Not particularly, no."

"Izzy, you have to give me something. I just found out last night – by your drunken admission, no less – that you've been having a secret tryst with Peter for five years. The _same_ Peter we have been best friends with since we were toddlers."

"Peter, Peter, Pumpkin eater. Whacked off in the movie theater. Sprayed his load across the screen. And ruined Titanic's final scene," I sing. Angela just shakes her head at me, as usual.

"Stop quoting Andrew Dice Clay. This is serious stuff, Izz. We really need to talk about this. For one, I am your best friend and you didn't even tell me. Two, he's married to Charlotte. Three, they are having a baby."

"One, I didn't tell you because you would be disappointed and judgy. I knew you would tell me to stop and I didn't want to hear it. Two, I am fully aware that he is married, hence his name in big bold letters on the PLC Board. Three, that particular recent event was the catalyst to hot boxing wine, ugly crying, the ginormous epiphany, and the subsequent inception of the Post-It Note Board of Poor Life Choices"

"Did you really think I would judge you?" Angela whispers.

"Yes. Out of the three of us, you have always been the moral one. This leads you to be judgmental at times." Angela's face falls. I know she tries not to judge people, she really does, but growing up with a preacher for a father, there's no way not to have judgy morals.

"You may be right but you still could have told me. I mean, you've been in love with him since we were like thirteen. I know you like the back of my hand and I know him even acknowledging feelings for you is a big deal to you. So…"

"Soooo… Nothing. It happened. I was stupid. It's done."

"So, that's it? You two are just gonna pretend like the last five years never happened and just be friends?"

"Heavens, no."

"Is he leaving her?"

"If he was leaving her, do you really think any of last night's events would have taken place?"

"No, probably not. So what's your plan then?" Angela sits down on the bed.

"Simple. I'm leaving." I say nonchalantly as I drink the rest of my coffee.

"Leaving where?"

"Jacksonville."

"Where the heck are you gonna go?"

"Forks. Tomorrow, to be exact."

"Wait. WHAT?!"

"You heard me, I am Forks bound. _Hasta la vista_, Jacksonville."

"So you are just gonna up and move all the way to the other side of the country on less than a days' notice? No plan? What about your friends? Your life here in Jacksonville? Are you even gonna tell him? Tell anyone besides me? You gonna skip out on rent too?"

"I have a plan. My plan is to pack up everything I own and drive across the country, do a little sightseeing, hit up some Diners, Drive-ins and Dives locations. Then move into my father's house in Forks. It's been vacant for a year and I still haven't gone through any of his things. You know I can set up shop anywhere. As for my friends, you are the only one I care about and I will miss you dearly. But I expect – nah, demand – that you visit me at least once a year. No, I was not planning on telling anyone beside you and my landlord."

"You don't plan on telling _him_ at all?"

"Correct. I will be sneaking out of town under the cover of night and let it be a surprise."

"So basically, you are running away."

"If you chose to look at it that way, then I guess, yes? I see it more as broadening my horizons, finally completing a task that I have been avoiding, in a swift and hastily manner. Being spontaneous."

"You hate spontaneous."

"Correction, I used to hate it. Now I am simply embracing it. New Izzy, new life, fresh start."

"It sounds more like avoidance to me."

"Look, Ang. I _need_ to do this. I can barely look at myself in the mirror anymore. I hate myself. I hate this person I've become. When I look at myself, I see this hollow, broken, worthless girl who is stupid – so, so stupid. It makes me sick. _I_ make me sick. Being here, especially now… I feel like everything is caving in around me and I can't breathe. And I'm afraid of what I might do if I stay. I can't stay here and watch him with Charlotte and the baby. I just can't…" I start to choke up but take a deep breath and swallow down the agony that is building in my chest.

"Oh, Izzy. I may not agree but I understand. I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you too, Angie Baby. Now grab a box. I could use some help."

****A/N**

**If you haven't already guessed, Izzy is not a saint. If I'm feeling ambitious, a photo of her Post-It Note Board of Poor Life Choices might just show up on a blog somewhere or perhaps The Twitter... no promises. My lack of ambitious is sometimes staggering. Thank you for reading!**

**XOZO**

**HB**


	3. Chapter 3 Self Talk

**I wrote Santa my yearly letter asking him to reevaluate my position on the naughty list. I proposed that he think about creating a new list, The So-So list; Neither very good nor very bad; passable. _"Where you a good little girl this year? Eh so-so." _Do you think it was too much to also request supernatural powers, a unicorn I can name Valcor, and a guinea pig I can name Not Real Bacon (NRB for short)? **

**A huge thank you to the usual suspects, WT, bff Kimmie, Kmah, the Mighty Red Pen, my loves, and you brilliant and beautiful readers. Flove you all to the moon and back. To "guest" reviewer Holy Smokes- YOU ARE A GENIUS! I know a few people I could give that to for Christmas.**

**Update: Still don't own Twilight. That being said, I'm working on some Quantum Leap shit so never say never. Enjoy!**

Chapter 3

Self Talk

I wipe my hand across the steamed-up mirror and lean over the sink, bracing both hands on each side of the counter. I swallow back the lump of what feels like a bundle of unshed tears just waiting to spring forth. _I can't cry now._ _Now, I need to be strong. I can cry them another time in another place. What I have to say needs to be heard and understood. I cannot waiver. _I swallow one last time before lifting my head up to look into the mirror. My face seems older, like it's weathered a few storms. Not young and hopeful like it used to way back when; when I thought of my life as a movie. Act one and two did not go how thought they would. A wet strand of hair falls in my face. I reach up with unsteady hands to brush it away.

I take a deep breath and look at myself dead in the eyes. "You have no one to blame but _yourself_. Not Charlie. Not Renee, even though you want to. _You_ chose to put yourself in this position, now you have to deal with it. _You_ did this." My voice begins to shake. "_You_." I have to pause and take another breath to reel it back in. "He is never gonna choose you. Because if he was, he would have picked you and he didn't. Twice. Are you listening? He had two opportunities to be with you and he didn't. And each time you died a little on the inside. It's time to _let him go_. The longer this goes on, the more torn up inside you become. If you continue to do this to yourself, it will _break_ you. _He_ will _break_ you. _You_ will _break_ you. This is it. Last time. Say goodbye. Because YOU ARE DONE."

I stand there for a few moments, staring at my reflection, letting it sink in, because every part of my being – yes, vagina, you included – needs to be on board. _Once this is over, Virginia,_ w_e can all grieve together. We'll get superhero stoned, go to the sex store, and buy ourselves the best vibrator they have. Go home, tap one out, smoke some more, and eat ice cream and chocolate and carbs, chips, whatever. But we have to do this. _

Once I start to feel it sink in, I head to my room to start getting ready. An hour later, I am looking pretty hot. A boob adjustment so they are front and center. Yep, looking good. But that was the plan – look fucking hot because I'm going out on top. I had decided in the shower that if I was gonna do this, then I was gonna give it all I've got. All the anxiety, the walls, the hesitation… gone. Every emotion felt will be laid out there for him to see. I figured I might as let it all out now because, either way, it's gonna rip me to fucking shreds. If I keep it all bottled up inside, it will just eat at me little by little, day by day. Slowly. Painfully. Or I can do the Band-Aid method – one giant rip. Quick. Excruciating, then numb. No regrets. Then walk out the door and never look back. This is _my_ goodbye. _My _closure.

****A/N****She's going out with a bang folks. Nothing like a good self talk to get things moving. Thanks for reading. Now go read some smut and tap one out, it'll make you feel better. Thank you for reading!**

**XOZO**

**HB**


	4. Chapter 4 Bringing Down the Wall

**Well came home to a response letter from Santa. Apparently The So-So list is a no go. Too many people would be on the list and Santa does not have the budget to expand operations. There was some other mumbo jumbo that I skimmed over and a 20% off coupon to Bed Bath and Beyond. Should I hold out hope for powers, Valcor, and NRB considering it is only the 8th? Fuck it! Here's to hope!**

**WT, BFF Kimmie, Kmah and your MRP, and my loves- thank you for everything. **

**Quantum Leap update: still in experimental stage. Enjoy!**

Chapter 4

Bringing Down the Wall

"Hi."

"Hi."

He grabs my hand and pulls me close. I instinctually push my face deeper into his chest and a wave of calm comes over me like it always does. I take a deep breath. He smells good. He always smells good. His embrace tightens and his lips brush the top of my head.

"I missed you," he whispers into my hair.

"I've missed you too."

He spins me around and starts pushing us towards the stairs. This is routine. We climb the stairs quickly as he peppers kisses down my neck. I hum in response. He knows what makes me feel good. What makes me tick.

When we get upstairs, I break routine. Today is my show. If I'm gonna do this, I _have_ to be in control. All my walls have been stripped away but this… this I need. I turn around to face him and push him down onto the bed. Slowly, I begin peeling off clothing, never breaking eye contact. Soon I am left standing there in only underwear. Slowly, I start to crawl up his body, lightly brushing my body against his as I go.

"Fuck, Izzy. So hot." I smirk and then straddle him, bending down so I can lightly kiss his lips. He pulls me closer and grinds up against me which makes us both moan.

"I love you," I whisper against his lips. He pauses for a brief moment and looks me in the eye. I can tell it surprises him. There have only been a small handful of times that he has actually heard me say it out loud.

It makes my chest burns when I say it. So I never do.

If this was any other time, I would only hold his gaze for a brief moment before looking away. Before the emotions start to come to surface. Those emotions are dangerous ones. Ones that threaten to swallow me whole. Not this time. This time I let him see. All the love, the pain, the hurt, and the calm. Everything. A smile slowly creeps across his face. Once upon a time, I knew with a level of certainty he loved hearing that I felt the same. Now it feels like it's that, mixed with this sick pleasure of keeping me dangling on a hook. It's confusing and hurtful and, if I'm honest, probably all in my head.

I take him into my hand, positioning him, and slowly sink down, swiveling my hips as I go. As I slide up and down, pressing my body into his, I lean forward and smash my lips to his. I tell him everything I ever wanted to tell him through that kiss. Through every touch. Every movement of my body. Slow, fast. Hard, soft. And everything in between. _Never _have I let myself be more open and vulnerable.

When it's over, I get dressed. Instead of lying there, conversing about our week as usually I know I have to go. I can already feel the tears scratching at the surface. _This _is_ it_. Time to say goodbye.

I take his face in my hands, giving him one last kiss. I_ love you. I love you. God, I fucking love you._ I scream in my head. Then I pull back, kissing my way up his jaw and whisper, "Goodbye," in his ear.

Down the stairs and out the door, I go. With every step, my chest starts to feel heavier – like there is a huge weight pressing down on it, encircling my body and squeezing like a vice. The side of my ring finger starts to burn like its on fire; something it always does when I try to suppress heartache.

_Hold it together. Just a little further to the car. Make it to the car._

By the time I reach the car, full-blown panic attack mode has taken over. I hop in and peel out of the driveway before even putting on a seatbelt. As soon as his house is out of sight, the tears just start flowing.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Of course it would be this song!" I yell and then laugh darkly. It figures that 'Arms' would be on. Just my fucking luck. I loathe when the radio decides to play emotional DJ. I reach up to turn the station but stop myself from pushing the button. I said I would let it all out. So instead of turning it, I crank up the volume and start singing at the top of my lungs.

"_You put your arms around me and I believe that it's easier for you to let me go. You put your arms around me and I'm home." _

The more I sing, the harder I cry. By the time I reach the stoplight, no real words are coming out, just gut-wrenching snobs and snot. A car full of teenage boys pull up beside me and I can feel them staring. So I do what any emotional wreck would do – roll down my window.

"What? You've never seen a woman bawl-sing before and snot all over themselves? I'm TRYING to let shit go, okay?! Welcome to Venus!"

"You're crazy, lady," one of them yells. They step on the gas and zoom away as soon as the light turns green.

"Well, up your nose with a rubba hose!" I yell after them.

"Damn kids," I mutter. I push the gas pedal and head in the opposite direction of my apartment, to the sex shop, just like I promised Virginia.

****A/N**

** She had her goodbye. Was it right? No, probably not. Was it hard? Of course it was, she looked smokin! *winky face* She did what she felt like she needed to do for herself to move on and move forward. Two more chapters of muck to get through before our girl can close this chapter of her life and hit the road. But first, the sex shop! Thank you for taking the time to read my nonsense.**

**XoZO**

**HB**


	5. Chapter 5 Grieving Together

**I want nothing more than to dance with you. Preferably the hammer dance or the Bye, Bye, Bye dance. Show off your best JT moves. A choreographed dance to MMM Bop perhaps. **

**Thank you and flove to the usual suspects. Quantum Leap update- I managed to jump into another's body but I jumped right out, *shudder. Don't ask. Still don't own. Enjoy!**

Chapter 5

Grieving Together

**How r u?- Angie Baby**

**Peachy keen jelly bean- Izzy**

**You have your fire extinguisher handy- Angie Baby**

**I'm not wearing pants so no need to worry- Izzy**

**LOL- Angie Baby**

**All your packing done? Do you want any help? I can come over- Angie Baby**

**Nah I got this. Besides, you don't want to come now.- Izzy**

**Why?- Angie Baby**

**Cuz I am super hero stoner, just ate my second tub of ice cream along with Doritos and chocolate pudding & I have a date- Izzy**

**With who?- Angie Baby**

**With The Pussy Monster ****- Izzy**

**Sweet Jesus- Angie Baby**

**More like OH GOD!- Izzy**

**SMH- Angie Baby**

**Shut it lovey. Go snuggle with Benny Boy.- Izzy**

**C U in the a.m. I heart your face Angie Baby- Izzy**

**I heart your face too- Angie Baby**

"I can't believe you're actually doing this," Angie says as she loads one of the last boxes into the small trailer attached to the back of my truck.

"Well, believe it, Sister Christian. Because in T-minus thirty minutes, I will be hitting the road." I ceremoniously place the last two boxes in the trailer.

"I'm gonna miss the shit outta you, Angie Baby."

"I'm gonna miss the shit outta you too, Izzy Boo." Angela wipes a tear from her eye.

"You just said shit! Stop the presses. Sister Mary Katherine Angela Webber just said shit! Say it again."

"Oh, jeeze. Stop it."

"Are you kidding me? I've been trying to get you to curse since I learned of its gloriousness."

"Isabella Marie."

"Angela Rebecca, if you don't say shit or fuck or cock sucker, I'm gonna start to cry and I don't want to cry."

"Well, shit, Izz. Now I'm gonna cry. And fuck you, cock sucker," Angela chokes out, sobbing and laughing.

"That is the _best_ going away present _ever_." I grab Angela and pull her into a bear hug. "You better call and text and email me all the time."

"I promise."

"You're coming back for the wedding, right?" Angela asks, biting her lip.

"Do you even have to ask? Of course I am. Just because I'm driving all the way across the country to live on the Olympic Peninsula, doesn't mean that I stop being your best friend. Bitch, you are stuck with me for life."

"Okay," Angela says as she nods and continues to cry. Oh Jesus, she's gonna make me cry.

"Okay. I just have to grab my bag from the house and I'm all set. I will be right back." I run into the house to grab my purse off the counter. Before I walked back out the door, I pause to take one last look around the place that had been my home for the past six years. _I'm really doing this._ _Can I really do this? I don't know but I deserve it and owe it to myself to try._

When I open the door to leave for the last time, there standing on the doorstep is Peter.

****A/N**

**I'm glad she kept her promise to Virginia. Dun, dun, dun...Peter Thank you all for reading. It means soooo much to me. Truly it does.**

**XOZO**

**HB**


	6. Chapter 6 A Test in Self-Control

**Just in time for the holidays. Is everyone ready for the holiday season? I think I am... but I have about three bottles of wine ready to be consumed, so if I'm not, I won't care. I hope everyone has a safe and at least moderately enjoyable holiday (keep the bar low, less room for disappointment). If all else fails, BLANKET FORT!**

**A note to the people that keep messaging me about role play- I liked to pretend to be a unicorn and be paraded around like the majestic beast that I am. If you piss me off, I will stab you with my horn. Christ people, this is not Tinder, or plenty of fish, or whatever else those damn sites are called. **

**A million rounds of thank yous to the usual suspects. I heart all your faces.**

**QL Update: I leapt into Ian Somerhalder's body- took it for a joy ride. And by that I mean I stood in the mirror naked touching every inch. Maybe by the end of this I will have reached SM but for now SDOT. Enjoy!**

Chapter 6

A Test in Self-Control

"'Sup," I say as nonchalantly as I can manage. He is the LAST person I want to see before I leave.

"'Sup?! 'Sup?! That is all you have to fucking say, Izzy. Really?" Peter is pissed. So incredibly pissed.

"Why are you here, Peter?"

"You NEVER say goodbye. You didn't return my calls or my texts. So I asked Ben if he knew what you and Angela were up to today and imagine both of our surprise when I didn't know you were leaving. And I thought to myself, did I forget that she was going on a trip? She would have told me she was going on a trip, right? Then I get here and see this! What the FUCK, Izz!? You're just gonna fucking pack up and leave without telling me?

"Last time I checked, I'm an adult that answers to no one," I say snarkily.

Peter turns red and closes his eyes for a moment before giving me the most heartbreaking look. "What about me? What about us?" he stammers.

"There is no _us,_ Peter. There never truly was. Can you honestly say that you saw us together in the future? I don't. We are_ never_ gonna be together. It was a stupid, juvenile thought. You're never going to leave Charlotte. Especially not now that she's pregnant. _Pregnant,_ Peter. Your _wife_ is pregnant with your baby and you want to ask me how I can just get up and leave? I can't live like this anymore! It's ripping me a-fucking-part. I was foolish and naive to think that for one second I deserved to be truly loved. Fuck, I mean, come on, how stupid am I? My track record speaks for itself. But I thought that because it was _you_- my _best friend_, the boy I've been in love with since I was thirteen_…_When you_ finally _ told me you loved me back, I thought I was _actually _going to be loved the way that I always wanted. I mean, shit, they make movies about that stuff. The boy finally notices the girl that's been right in front of him the whole time. He says this ridiculously romantic monologue and they kiss and then live happily ever after. That is how it is supposed to work."

"Izz, you know it's not that simple. Just..."

"No, I need to say this." Peter opens his mouth to speak again but one look shuts him down.

"_This, _Peter, this is the real world and in the real world, boy says romantic monologue, they kiss, and then boy goes back to his _wife_, keeping the girl who loves him with every fiber of her being on the side, once or twice a week, two hours at a time. And the girl… the girl stays because no one has ever shown her love. No one has ever elicited those overwhelming feelings that blind you. All on the promise that one day, _one day_, she will finally get her happily ever after. But days stretch into weeks. Weeks, stretch into months. Months, stretch into years and still the girl sits, blinded by her love for the boy, patiently waiting for him to finally be hers. All the while, a piece of her dies inside. Till one day, she wakes up and realizes that she is hollow inside and her biggest fear has come true – she _is_ not good – not good enough for a mother to really love her, not good enough to be a twinkle in her daddy's eye, not good enough for the one that holds her heart." I stand there, stoic. Face blank. It is taking every ounce of self-control I have to keep my shit together. I'm not ready for this conversation. Not yet. Not now. I need to go.

"Izzy." His voice cracks and I can see the glint of unshed tears in his eyes. He reaches out his hand and I back away quickly, shaking my head.

"Don't. Please. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep living with this constant hole. With this longing burn and with only a shred of self-respect."

"Izzy, don't say that. You know how I feel about you. You're my Isabella. My beautiful Isabella." He reaches out for me again

"Stop!" I scream while tears start streaming down my face. "Don't you get it? I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore! All I see staring back at me is this stupid, pathetic girl who continues to let people take away any _love_ or _dignity _or _self-respect_ that she once had. All _I see_ is some _sad_, _ugly_, _hollow_ girl that no one will ever love the right way.

"The fucked up thing is _I_ did it to myself. _I_ let it happen. _I_ kept going back. _I_ let you in. I did this. I lived with my head in fucking imaginary land, carrying around this childish notion or belief that what I see in the movies and on T.V. actually fucking happens in real life. But it doesn't. Love doesn't conquer all. Love fills you with nothing but false hope that leaves you hollow."

"I never meant to make you feels that way," he says quietly as a couple tears slide down his cheek.

"I never said you did, but if you love me _at all_, you will leave and never look back. Go home to Charlotte. Have a happy life with her and the baby. Become the brilliant man I know you can be. I want you to be happy. I just can't be around to see it and it's not fair to ask me to."

I lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Good bye, Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. It's been real." With that, I leave him standing in my empty apartment. I squeeze Angie's shoulder as I run past her to the truck. I get in and drive away as fast as I can, never looking back – because if I do, I know there is a chance I will waiver.

****A/N**

**Well, I may or may not be a bit misty after that. Good Bye Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Until we meet again, and we will meet again. It's road trip time! I probably wont be posting the next chapter till after the first of the year. But who knows, I may surprise you. Thank you for reading. Much love from me to you.**

**XOZO**

**HB**


	7. Chapter 7 On the Road

**And we, I, Izzy, Bella, her vagina, are back! I hope everyone had a not sucktastic holiday season. I am sad to report, minus the brief moments of deja vu (which just FUCKING HAPPENED btw), Sana did not grant my request for real honest to goodness super powers. I did get a hand made Unicorn back which is pretty dope. I will continue to hold out hope for next year. **

**Wonder Twin, bff Kimmie, and Kmah and her Mighty Red Pen- thank you a million times over for what you do and who you are. You are fucking SPECTACULAR- Keep that shit up.**

**QL Update: Jumped into KStew...immediately jumped back out.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 7

On the Road

"Welcome to Hog N Bones. Can I take your order?" the less than enthusiastic voice from the speaker asks. All I can think about is, "Welcome to Good Burger, home of the good burger. Can I take your order?" I wonder if they say that to customers when they're bored.

"Ummm, yeah, can I get the HNB Sampler with a large ice-tea please?"

"Will that be everything?"

"Actually, why don't you make that two? My future, not-so-sober stomach would also like some."

"Oookkkayyy? I will have your total at the window."

There are three cars ahead me so I flip down my mirror to see what the damage is. I cringe when my reflection pops up. No wonder the motel desk clerk was giving me the sad eyes. My eyes are all puffy and red, a trail of mascara tears run down my cheeks, and my nose is all raw because the only thing I had to blow my nose on was a flyer someone had left in my car two weeks ago about finding Jesus. Is it bad that I blew my nose on Jesus? Technically, it was a poorly drawn picture, so that has to count for something, right? Point being, I look like a hot fucking mess. Should I care that I'm out in public looking as such? Probably. Do I? No, not in the slightest. You gotta hit bottom before you can climb back up.

"That will be $18.63," says the young girl at the window. She keeps giving me the weird eye. I don't blame her. We finish our transaction and I drive back to the motel. I set the food on the table, then head back to the truck to grab my overnight bag that has my essentials. When I pick up the bag, I notice a gift sitting on the seat. Was this here before?

When I get back to my room, I open it. Inside is a journal with a plain black cover I can write or draw on. I open it up and on the inside cover is an inscription.

"_Just a little something to document your journey, wherever it may take you. Love, Angela"_

I start to get choked up. She knows me all too well. I had planned on picking one up tomorrow. It might never amount to anything but a reminder years from now or maybe I will turn it into my next book. Who knows? But writing is in my soul and if I'm gonna get through this, I need to write it out. Not keep it bottled up inside. Writing is a much cheaper and, in my case, profitable form of therapy.

**You always know the right thing. Thank you. - Izzy**

**You are welcome. You can thank me in the dedication after you turn this into a book **** - Angie Baby**

**Deal - Izzy**

**I expect a best seller - Angie Baby**

**Some high expectations you got there - Izzy**

**Nope, I just know that you are an amazing writer. Capable of great things. - Angie Baby**

**Stop it, ur gonna make me cry again - Izzy**

**Where are you now? - Angie Baby**

**Waycross, GA about to toke up and chow down on some BBQ - Izzy**

**SMH. You do love your BBQ - AB**

**I do. I do. I dooo-ooo - Izzy**

**What's on tomorrow's agenda? - AB**

**Southern Forest World baby! - Izzy**

**Sounds...fun. Drive safe and text me when you get to your next stop. - AB**

**Roger that! Nighty Nighty Angie Baby. - Izzy**

**Night Izzy - AB**

I know she wanted to ask me how I was doing. But she knows me and she knows that when I'm ready to talk, I will.

I grab my chow and a joint and head out to the balcony. I think about bringing my journal but leave it on the table. If I start to write, I will end up slipping deeper into the dark. I don't like the dark place. So instead, I smoke till I'm numb. Till my brain shuts off and all my focus is concentrated on one thing… Everything else – the self-loathing, the guilt, the unbearable heartache – is on pause. All that's playing is a girl on a balcony, eating her BBQ, staring off into space. Thinking… nothing. Feeling… nothing.

****A/N**

**I am super jealous that she got BBQ. Angie Baby is such a sweet heart. Up next, Southern Forest World!**

**Thank you from the bottom of this messy heart for taking the time to read my lil ditty.**

**XOZO**

**HB**


	8. Chapter 8 Stuckie? Really?

**Double your pleasure, double your fun. Two chapters in one day! During the road trip portion of our program there will be two chapters for each stop, if you were at all Curious George about it. **

**To all the usual suspects- Thank you kindly.**

**QL Update: Needed a small break after the KStew jump. Even though it was brief, I saw things and felt things... still processing... I just... you know... ummm, so yeah...fuck..**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 8**

Stuckie? Really!?

**Journal Entry Day 1 **

_Are you there God? It's me, Bella._

_Who the hell is Bella? That is an excellent question. Bella is, in fact, me. Izzy. Well, to be more specific, Isabella Marie Swan. I always hated my name growing up. It's such a lofty name; Hebrew for "Devoted to God" and one who usually carries some expectation of beauty. Unlike Isabella Rossellini, whom I was named after, I am a Plain Jane. Nothing special. Certainly not something to fawn over. Growing up, I was really just trying to survive. I didn't want people to notice me in my thrift store clothes or my mismatched socks. I wanted to be invisible. A wallflower. Peter actually gave me the name Izzy when we were about 5. Isabella was too difficult to say so he decided that Izzy was better anyway. I liked Izzy. I was excited about Izzy. More for the fact that someone gave me not only a nickname, but a new name. So, Izzy it was. The next time I saw my mother, I promptly told her that henceforth, I would be known as Izzy, the invisible. She said, 'fine, that was more suiting then Isabella'. See, I didn't live up to the name. I knew it. She knew it. The only time I didn't go by Izzy was when I was in Forks with my dad. There my name was Bella or Bells. Thanks to Jacob Black and Charlie. So since I am headed back there, I figure Bella is more fitting. Izzy just makes me sad. Still me, but 'Bella' has waaaayyyy less baggage._

_I also decided to write to you because: I'm a wayward soul in need of some guidance. I've never been a religious person but Angela finds peace of mind when she talks to you and since she gave me this journal as a gift, I thought it was only fitting. __I'm also going to use this journal to write to Peter. I promised myself I wouldn't call him, text him, email him, Facebook, Twitter…. (Jesus, life was much simpler before social media.) So, now I will talk to the imaginary Peter via this journal. Fingers crossed this works and I don't cave._

_Now that we got introductions out of the way, let's talk about my day. Today, I went Southern Forest World! Home of Stuckie, the petrified dog. I know what you're thinking. Stuckie? Really!? I know, right! Oh, it gets better. They had a contest on what to name him. You hold a naming contest and that is what you picked? I don't get it. This is almost as irritating as naming the future king of the Pride Lands Simba! Which, in case you were wondering, is "lion" in Swahili. Lion, for Christ's sake! I digress… (If you hadn't noticed I have a real issue with this. Clearly.) Okay, back to Stuckie. This is what the accompanying sign says: "A chimney effect occurred in the hollow tree, resulting in an upward draft of air. This caused the scent of the dead animal to be carried away, which otherwise would have attracted insects and other organisms that feed on dead animals. The hollow tree also provided relatively dry conditions, and the tannic acid of the oak helped harden the animal's skin."_

_How did he get in there, you ask? Well, apparently, this glorious petrified hound dog was chasing a raccoon and got stuck. I pretended to be a raccoon and stood in front of Stuckie taunting him and then turned to the mildly irritated Southern Forest World employee and said, "Looks like Stuckie ran out of luckie." She did not find that amusing. She also did not find the sticky note I put over his name that read, "From henceforth, I demand to be called something cool like Bo, short for Boba Fett. Stuckie is lame."_

_I promptly moved on to the next exhibit, Trees in Space... Space... Space. It was something about trees helping fuel rockets. "Nitrocellulose from wood is a rocket propellant", to be exact. They also had a SCAPE on display, which you would think was a space cape, but it's not. It's some sort of space suit worn in the 1960's by NASA workers who fueled the Gemini rockets, also made from trees. Equally cool? That's to be determined. All that kept popping in my head was Muppet trees dressed as Star Trek characters. You know… like the Muppet Show's Pigs in Space. _

_On your way out the door, there is a giant talking tree which looks like half-Muppet, half-H.R. Pufnstuf. It used to be in the Smithsonian and it says things from the 70's. It's kinda trippy, but then again, I was high, so… I bought Angela a postcard with Bo on the front and "Wood You Believe Our Mummy is a Dog?"_

_Next stop- Tuscaloosa, Alabama._

_TaTa for now,_

_Iz _

_I mean Bella_

_p.s. I'm sorry I blew my nose on a poorly drawn depiction of your son. _

_P.P.P.E. (Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater) – I can't count how many times I picked up the phone today to text you. Sometimes my thumb would just hover over your name while I had an internal monologue about the dangers of ex-text. Other times, I would type out the entire text and just stare at the screen in my hand, thumb poised to hit send. I miss you so much it hurts. I wonder if you miss me too. Do you stare at your phone willing a text from me to come through like I do? I love you. I wish I was strong enough to delete your number but I'm not. I hate you but then again, I don't. I should write more about you but I can't. It makes it too real. I'm not ready._

**_**A/N_**

**_I really have issues with naming him Stuckie but not as much as Simba. I'm working it out in therapy. Maybe one day I will be able to watch the Lion King again. _**

**_I don't know about you, But Southern Forest World sounds spectacular but then again I have a soft spot for trees and petrified things. It's totally a real place, in case you were wondering. _**

**_To the Blanket Fort Batman! _**

**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_XOZO_**

**_HB_**


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